Aces in Exile
by ddaybluedevil
Summary: WWII AU- Meet the young, cocky Polish pilot, the loyal American Nurse, the brave Maquis fighter, and the British nurse survivor. Rated M for future chapters with mentions of violence, blood, and general terrible WWII things that occurred in Nazi concentration camps. This is a SLOW burn, slow paced fic so deal with it, and Holtzbert is endgame but its a long way off.
1. Operation Jubilee

August 1942

Flight Officer Jillian Holtzmann shivered as she sat in her Hawker, it was an early morning. She had been flying for twenty-eight weeks straight now and without rest. Her home country of Poland had fallen to the Nazis, only two years ago, now and she was just outside of London, flying sorties out of Heston. The Brits did not seem keen on having a female pilot flying with them but, she was part of the 317th and her C/O had risked his neck for her more than once, so she could fly again. She had one kill, but they still promoted her from a Warrant Officer to Flying Officer, not bad for an orphan from Wrocław. She still had more to prove, and she snaps her oxygen mask, determination in her face.

She will be part of the aerial escort for Operation Jubilee, she would be one of the few Polish aviators flying today. She tucked the picture of her adoptive mother and niece into her altimeter and revved the engines. Her Hawker, fully loaded with enough ammo for the trip there but she worried about fuel. The Channel was difficult to fly in bad weather, clear weather would make her a target, again no good options. She knew she had a lucky streak and she did not want to push it. The British were pushy and the Polish commanders in exile could only do so much for them and it got difficult at times.

She missed her home and her mother, Rebecca, and the feeling of having a family to go back to. Holtzmann saw the convoy down below and hoped the poor chaps would be okay as they flew across the Channel. This raid was far too ambitious, and she had told Gabeszewicz about it, he told her she was lucky to even fly without being in her Polish Squadron and with the English. She had bloody warned the others that it would be a folly to attack during the day, with fighter planes and half of the Royal Navy Air Arm to boot. Polish Fighter Command dealt with the British and their hands are tied and was in no position to make demands or give an opinion on most of the operations their pilots flew in.

She spotted an Fw. 190 and climbed above it, stalling a little. She had done enough flying in her Hawker to know her limits and she had not reached it yet. The German pilot still did not notice her, as he was too busy looking down at the convoy, Holtzmann emptied half a belt into him and saw the flame burst. It was a pretty sight as she racked up her second kill and just saved one of the bigger landing transports, LST for short.

Holtzmann flew back to the squadron and reported her kill to the flight leader, Captain Kevin Beckman and hung behind the Brits. Gabeszewicz had warned her of not outshining the British pilots unless necessary. It was a warning that she barely took to heart anymore, if they were going to ground her they should have done that as soon as she had come back from France. She flew in the back as the anti-aircraft fire started firing in their general vanity as the pilots broke off, flying to get out of harm's way. The Germans just loved to shoot down pilots and Holtzmann took a sharp right as she re-grouped with Beckman. Holtzmann spotted the tanks advancing towards those poor soldiers on the beach and radioed Beckman. She unsnapped her mask and pushed the mic receiver close to her face.

"Eagle One, Eagle One, we have a bogey down on the beach can I engage?" Holtzmann asked as she spoke into her mask radio.

"Roger Eagle Eight, permission to engage and give them hell. Remember to make it count." Beckman rasped.

Holtzmann climbed in the air as Beckman watched her six with ease and waited for her to begin her diving run. All fighter pilots trained to make bomb runs and fight in dog fights, she was proficient in all aspects of air combat and that included diving. The British had made many of them earn their wings again after the fall of Poland and it paid off. The shrill of the engines startled her as she finished her ascent and her plane shook, it was time to dive.

Jillian throttled the brake as she turned down and then punched the accelerator as she began the approach. Her adrenaline kicked as she continued to dive towards the Panzer and she noted the feet, 5,000: 3,000, 1,000 500... BAM! Holtzmann looked down in her cockpit and she had scored another tank kill. She whooped loudly as Beckman also cheered as the bomb had taken care of one of the finest "Panzer Elite". The squadron reformed and limped on home after a hard-fought battle.

* * *

Holtzmann seethed in her hut, Operation Jubilee had been a complete disaster. The raid had been a failure and they had lost half of the Free French pilots. The main force got cut off by the Germans and there was nothing they could do, she had seen this coming after studying the terrain around Dieppe. The Germans just had too many defenses and hardened soldiers.

The British still needed as many combat pilots and they kept trying these useless raids, Saint Nazaire was one that rare gem that been successful and she wondered if they could ever push the Germans back if they kept up these useless raids. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. The Germans had everything that the Allies wished: combat hardened troops, good combat pilots, no shortage of planes, and more importantly they held all the terrain.

An invasion would only work if they could overwhelm the ground forces and that was IF America would even come into the war in the European theater. They sure did have good soldiers, a smart field commander, proper equipment, and plenty of ammo. The Americans had to be coming soon to alleviate this and soon or there would be nothing left to save. She sighed as fell on her bed and looked at the photo of her "mother", Rebecca who had raised her and got her out of that orphanage in Wrocław. It made her mad, because; she missed her family so much and her mother might not be in Warsaw anymore. The feeling of not knowing where her adoptive family was maddening and the fact that they could be dead, just for being in the wrong place by a Nazi jackboot.

It was hard not to feel down after she had lost her family, her home, her country, and not win a single battle. There was also the ten months in a hospital up after the wood cooker had exploded in her face during the Battle of France. She was forced out of the fight and had to be evacuated due to a Frenchman's idiocy. She had spent eighteen months in the hospital recovering from her burns and finally re-gained her eyesight after a long stay in a military hospital.

The British seemed surprised when the Polish wanted her trained as fighter pilot but who was to question Polish logic? They were some of the toughest fighters the RAF had and they were not turning down applicants anytime soon. Holtz kicked her bed again and sighed, she missed her home and more importantly she missed not having to fly with her life on the line.

It was simply infuriating and made her question if this war was truly worth it after losing so much? It was this question that kept Holtzmann up at night more than the thought of dying. She looked down at her hands and saw the scars from the day Rowan de North had blown them both sky-high, that bastard died a week later from his injuries and Jillian had to suffer through one of the worst days of the war, Dunkirk. She had not been able to fight and she had to be loaded into a small sailboat and ferried to Dover, it was miserable.

She's still miserable as she stretches her aching hands and stays put on her bed, so much had happened and it still wasn't enough. The scars Rowan gave her had changed her and it was not like she would ever go back to not fighting, there was still much war left and she had to be brave and keep fighting. There was no other choice and sometimes she remembered what her mowa would say.

"You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give." Rebecca's voice echoed in her head, damn it mom she thought as she glared at her hands again.

She always told her that so many times and yet Jill struggled to meet the current situation with her best, it was hard after being beaten down so many times. Jillian had hated being sidelined after barely getting to fly in France and people still were not okay that she was a woman, the Soviets had female fighter pilots and now the Polish did too. She sighs as she looks up at the ceiling and wonders what the future will hold, it will be difficult to keep being a hero and having no one to truly confide in, she missed her little niece, the girl was only eight now. Jillian slumped into her pillow and fell away into oblivion, her rotten day long behind her and fell into a restless sleep.


	2. Aftershocks

**I would like to apolgize but I am currently re-editing all 5 of the first chapters of _Aces in Exile_ tonight and uploading the fourth chapter also. I am ramping up for Holtzbert Week and I may or may not be posting this to Archive of Our Own, I really haven't decided yet but that is why you guys keep seeing this getting updated right now, cause I am working through the pain and drinking lots of beer to get all of these stories done, cause it's in two weeks and so is my historical analysis, so yeah a lot of history books and sites are on my reading list right now and this will likely be the shortest chapter.**

August 27th 1942

 _ **Called in to serve**_  
 _ **And they knew what to do**_  
 _ **They were the heroes of the cold**_

 _ **Warrior soul, they signed a book of history**_  
 _ **They played a leading role to win the 2nd war**_

 _ **Saboteurs, Sabaton**_

Patricia "Patty" Tolan sure had led an interesting life and she smiled as she sipped her small cup of coffee in her small apartment beneath her shop. She had been born in South Africa and had joined the Army as soon as she could and she was a nurse that had been in the Great War. She had served during Boer Wars and the Great War as a frontline nurse and she knew this war seemed to be nothing special until Germany had invaded Poland. She had been lucky to escape the German convoy when she did and she had fled to Normandy, after Dunkirk. She had made fast friends with the Maquis and had started a small print shop in the town of Ouistreham selling postcards. The German occupied forces called her " Le Noir" because they had never seen a black woman before, save a few officers who had gone to jazz clubs in Berlin or Paris. She had never been to Paris but that could wait for another day, right now she had to focus on surviving. Her shop had another purpose behind the faded pictures of coast and historical tapestries, and that was moving Allied aviators and flight crew back across the channel, it was risky but she knew the risks, setting up ambushes and causing all sorts of general havoc for the Nazis. Her very skin color put her at risk and she would die outright if caught without the proper documentation, the Gestapo is ruthless like that.

Patty was not afraid of fighting anyone and after all her code name, 'Amazon', was something that spread respect and also would instill terror in the unsuspecting Kraut or Jerry. She had gone through so much war already as a nurse and she was tired of having to deal with idiots arguing over who got what and then someone had to invade someone's country and Germany was always the one getting pissed off. If Patty was anywhere near an 'actual' leader who started this war, she would have smacked him senseless, seriously Adolf? Patty's got you beat. Patty was tired of picking up young men and trying to stuff their vital organs back in after a strafing run or watching boys getting obliterated by artillery, leaving only their dog tags and a helmet. She had seen enough death to last a lifetime and yet there was more death to go.

* * *

She sighed as she finished her small breakfast and went up to her shop and prepared to face another day under occupation. Patty tucked her beret into her messenger bag alongside her Sten and Walther pistol under the counter. She was a saboteur and often would go on raids with her new "friends" and destroy German trucks. It was dangerous work but, after the abuse she had seen at Dunkirk she knew she had to escape and fight back. The Maquis had easily accepted her as one of their own and used her shop as a Résistance waypoint. The upstairs of her shop is the main meeting place for raid operations and ambushes. Patty preferred ambushes as she could kill the monsters who had taken her best friend away.

It was a pity that Erin could not come with her, it would make her situation easier and Erin was more fluent in French than German. God, her friend's German pissed off the guards so much they tried speaking in English and so many mishaps had ensued with her friend's poor grasp of the German language. It was worse than that one time she tried to speak Spanish to that one soldier, oh that had been a rough time, Erin was still childish and after all there was a big age gap. Patty was already thirty and Erin had only been eighteen during Dunkirk, what a shame. She hoped that Erin was doing okay and she remembered when they loaded up that Polish woman onto the sailboat that Erin barely could contain her tears, it was a miracle that anyone got out alive at all. That poor woman had burns that would leave most people disabled, yet she was coherent enough to say goodbye and give a little salute to Patty, she had been a major after all. They had done their best and they got most of the lads to safety, most. That continued to bother her that they could not get all of the boys out but it had been enough in the face of a superior force

She straightened herself up and prepared herself for the busy day ahead, a German artillery officer was coming pick up his party invitations and they had to be perfect. His was hosting a house warming party at an occupied chateau and had already the chamapgne from Paris and got the best ciders without paying the farmers who made the cider. Patty bustled around her shop setting an announcement here, placing carbon paper here and there, and setting the type on her press. She mused that in a past life she had been a printer or Gutenberg even. She also had to radio that the Canadians and Free French commandos had been moved further inland if the Maquis wanted to attempt a rescue for those that had been captured at Dieppe. Those poor lads had no idea what the Germans had done to their native land.

* * *

This was her life now and she sighed softly as she looked at the tattered picture of Erin and her in their nurse uniforms, those had been easier times and felt like a lifetime ago now. Patty busied herself though she wanted to cry, she missed her friend. There was not a single day that passed by that Patty did not worry about what happened to Erin, she had been such a young nurse. The officer had agreed to pay her with coffee and six cartons of cigarettes which would keep her afloat for a while. She would pass the payment onto her contacts in the SOE and in return they would be able to drop medicine that the Résistance needed badly, if the SOE in France did not act like schoolchildren whenever people actually needed them to be useful. Leave it to the British to be obstinate for people who really needed the help and just the ones who were fighting back, the Maquis distributed some of the supply drop perishables to farmers and poor families in the area. 'Viper' had yet to contact after another risky operation in Le Havre had failed and sixty civilians had been rounded up and shot after the destruction of several fueling stations in the area.

The reprisals only made the job worse as she thought of the poor families as they attacked a convoy. Sure, it was dangerous and yes, she was getting too old for this shit but what else could she do? Sit and do nothing? She remembered that one time she had slit that officer's throat and it had felt so good to be taking the fight straight to the enemy. It was not that long ago that she had been healing necks and now she was snapping them. The Nazis deserved it and after watching all those boys get executed at Dunkirk, it was bloody well worth it if she took a few of those butchers with her, knowing full well that she could die the next day by a firing squad.

They were itching for a reason to shoot for her and she would not give them a reason, not if she could help it. Patty was not scared of that and as long as Lynch continued to keep her updated on the Nazi movements, they would all be fine in the long run and if not she would go down kicking, screaming, and covered in some Kraut's blood, it was simply her way now, be tough as nails and ready to fight whenever the chance arose.

Her young contact, Jennifer Lynch, had grown up here and would often run errands for her, either dealing with the SOE or working a German officer for information. Jennifer had been a school teacher before the war and had taught high school teens English. Then the Nazis rolled through France and most of her students ran to the Army to fight, only to end up killed, captured, or missing. This war would cost all of them a great deal of their humanity and right now Patty did not want to think like that, it was dangerous to get in a state of hopelessness. They had the SOE, they were making little pushbacks and that had to start having some effect on the occupying force soon. The villagers certainly looked chipper after a successful supply run or after they destroyed a local fuel depot, it was always hard to get their spirits up after reprisals and Patty knew how much morale would make or break the French and the British, they needed to keep the dagger to the throat of the enmey and that is exactly what Patty planned to do. She couldn't let all that machete swinging in Burma and India go to waste now, could she?


	3. Operation Torch pt 1 (the beginnings)

**Chapter Text**

November 3rd, 1942

Lt. Abigail Yates hates this damned boat. The last time she had been on a boat was when her family had taken a cruise down to Mexico. The swaying of the boat reminded her of the days spent in the cabin while brother made fun of her for wanting to study anything other than nursing at Columbia.

She had punched him in the arm rather hard and Abby smiled at the memory, Colin was a good brother.

The Army Nurses were a tough but caring bunch and she knew it would be okay, they were trained for the worse, just not sea-sickness. Her sister, Lousie, would be in her element but Abby was having trouble with the waves.

Up and down, up and down. Abby reached for the barf bucket and spit out what was left of her breakfast, sighing at the relief of emptying her stomach's contents.

"Hey Yates, how is that breakfast staying down?" Jane "Jeannie" Sherman, of Kalispell, Montana, asked as she landed back in her bunk.

"Miserably. I should not have had that bacon after all." Abby replied as she sat down opposite of Jane who gave a sympathetic smile.

"I warned you about the cooks on this tin cannot cook well." Gertrude Aldridge replied with a haughty laugh and returned to her letter writing.

"Shut up, Gertie, I don't need your gloating to add to my bloating." Abby retorted from the lower bunks retort as the Long Island native 'hmphed' and rolled to her other side.

"Have you heard from Colin recently? Did he pass Basic?" Jane asked ignoring the irate Manhattan socialite on the top bunk.

"Barely. He is a full-fledged Marine now and guess what he is doing now?" Abby said with a hint of pride as she lay in her swaying bunk.

"Mortars? Bazookas? Cooking?" Jane said as she quizzed her friend the fate about the unfortunate brother, the newly minted Marine.

"No, worse. Machine guns." Abby said with a grin and flopped back on her bunk.

"That is worse but not as worse as your sea-sickness and inability to hold breakfast." Jane said as she sipped her canteen of coffee and sighed, "Terrible, just terrible. It's like they aren't even trying!"

"My brother, Albert, he's in the Marines too and do you anything else about where he's stationed Abby?" Gertrude asked as she stopped her letter and stared at the officer opposite her bunk.

"2nd Marines, Albert is in what unit?"

"1st Marines, 2nd Recon and he was complaining last week about supplies from the Civil War. I don't doubt it for a second with the Quartermasters in this damned outfit. You have any siblings Jeannie?" Gertrude asked as the ship continued to sway through the swell.

"One, he's a naval chaplain, George, on the USS Enterprise and those pilots don't have it easy. Jane said as she paused, "I propose a toast! To the Quartermaster Corps their inability to get proper supplies to frontline unit." Jane said as she raised her canteen in a mocking toast as the nurses raised their canteens up.

"Ladies, we need to batten down these hatches-so if you'd oof." Ensign Phil Hudson said as he banged his head on one of the swinging bed racks and landed on the ground, clutching his head.

"You, okay sailor?" Gertrude asked in a bitter sweet tone as Phil struggled to stay up right, "I have some bandages, c'mere handsome."

"Thanks, Gertie. You are a gem when you aren't on your period." Phil replied with a smirk and backed away as the nurse in question looked ready to vomit in his direction.

"Get going Phil or we will start throwing our Army issued tampons at you" Jeannie said as he received a pelt from her powder brush.

"I think three of us are on the same cycle right now, so choose your next words wisely." Abby retorted as she ready a GI-issued tampon at the poor Ensign who was just doing his job, poorly.

"I'm going to leave now." Phil said as he hastily retreated back up the bunk row and ran into the knee-knocker on the way out.

"Jeannie, you scared him bad and he looked terrified." Gertrude said with a smirk and rolled over to look at the poor women who both gave her a wink.

"It's me, Yates, Blackburn, and Holliday who are struck with this blasted cycle right now." Jeannie moaned as she lay still on her un-comfy bunk.

"I deserve a Purple Heart after the hell we went to for the toilets." Abby replied with a groan.

"The sailors kept laughing since we weren't looking for the head." Marion chimed in as she puffed on her cigarette and looked at her fellow nurses.

"This is why I joined the Army! I was going to punch Phil, if he didn't stop asking me if needed help finding the head. Sheez, I worked with bums and they weren't as feely as sailors". Abby retorted with a smirk and looked back as Marion shot her a smile.

"There's a dick measuring contest in every branch, you'll see. The Marines just don't have the problem of women with them in the Pacific." Gertrude replied with a knowing smirk and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

November 9th, 1942

The hospital had been built two days ago since the invasion had started. they had men with broken bones from falling from the ships, hitting the sides of ships and they had plenty of sprained ankles. They had an engineer with some broken ribs from getting crushed against his boat and landing craft. It was not exactly what Abby thought being a front-line nurse was about, it would have to do. She expected more gunshot wounds; the days were coming where she would hope for a simple ankle sprain.

A formation of planes roared as she finished unloading more of their supplies from a truck and looked up at the fast Hurricanes dash across the sky. She had not met any aviators yet, they were a breed all their own and unlike infantry soldiers, smarter and they did not try to eat dirt or make her go insane by trying to out-do each other by hitting each other with shovels or dick measuring contests

"Whatcha' thinking about Abby?" Jane asked as she finished unloading the last of the penicillin from the supply crate.

"The war. There are so many people united in one cause and we get to witness it, it feels like history is unfolding before our eyes." Abby replied as she looked back at Jeanine who had a mischievous grin on her face.

"Yeah, and Gertrude just got into an Australian. They were doing it in the supply tent and I could live without seeing her ass." Jeannie replied with a groan as she handed the sutures to Abby who also gave a groan.

"Jeannie! Why would tell me that? I could have lived a hundred years without knowing she has as an ass or anything to do with her posterior." Abby retorted with a grimace as she put the sutures down and pointing a scaplel, "never again?"

"We suffer together godmanit. He was an ANZAC too, so sue me."

"We all know she is into men with connections and wealth."

"She made a connection all right."

"You unloaded those bottles of penicillin?"

"Yeah, yeah, Phil helped me, and god are all men born stupid?"

"It's Phil, just maybe we can find you a man with a brain. Cole is pretty easy on the eyes and doesn't seem that stupid."

"West Point grad or the man who's never seen an ocean before 1940? I'll take the one with a brain."

"You have to pick one, so you get Cole. We can't be like Gertrude who just sleeps with everything in sight."  
The nurses slowly wound down after finally setting up the field hospital properly. They had been dealing with injuries that were directly related to the invasion.

"I still can't believe Fischer broke all those ribs from missing the net." Jeannie said with a sigh as she sat down on her cot and looked across from Gertrude who had done the same.

"They trained and trained but when it comes down to the show, well pressure's on now. Cole made me clear him for tonight, god that man." Gertrude replied as she kicked her boots off and shimmied into the cot, "I would not have heard the end from Rourke if we just treated

"Rourke is like a bad schnauzer with all bark and no bite." Jeannie replied and Gertrude sighed, shaking her head.

"He had enough for Fischer to get cleared for the raid. You see Abby yet? She was still talking to Clinton and Cole after they finished setting up the OR a few hour ago." Gertrude asked

Jeannie took a pause before she looked around once and saw that most of the other nurses were whisper-yelled to Gertrude. "It's Clinton, I heard a rumor in the head that she was stepping down after this invasion which would mean Holliday, Abby, me, then you in would command the nurses if things go South."

"What'd I miss gals? Clinton was briefing us on all our responsibilities and the new chain of command." Abby asked as she flopped onto her bunk as Captain Marion Holliday did the same and sighed as she landed on her cot

"Yeah, we have a rough and long road ahead. The British have barely held on as it is, and they want our guys to do their fighting. We have to fix a Limey up if they roll through here and Cole definitely had a few choices words for Watson, he's one of Montgomery's officers." Marion replied with a grimace and looked up at the other nurses, all of whom shared a mixed reaction.

"Marshall fought in the previous war and he knows our boys don't fight well under a foreign command. Why should we care if a Brit gets hit?" Jeannie asked from across the aisle and she could hear Holliday's sigh from across the room.

"That's we told the surgeons but, Cole was having none of it. We fight alongside em' and do you just leave them there?" Abby replied as she sat down and began shaking the boots free of the sand that had come to nest in her soles.

"No, my father fought in the previous war and he saved a Brit who had been stranded in 'No-Man's-Land. So, yes, you wouldn't just leave them out under withering fire, we do our best to treat them no matter the nationality." Marion retorted and looked across at some of the finest nurses that she had known thus far.

"Even if they are a Nazi?" Gertude asked her eyes wide as saucers at the mere thought of treating a Nazi soldier.

"Yes, even then. Lights out, ladies, we have busy days ahead of us." Holliday replied as she yanked the light off and waited for the dawn to come soon.

* * *

November 10th, 1942

Holtz spotted a Stuka that was beginning to dive, and she pushed her Hawker to intercept. She fired the .303's and the Stuka started to burn. It crashed into the canyon and exploded, she smirked as the sky streaked with pinks of the sunset, very different from the drab colors of Warsaw. Beckman radioed in and told her he had a fuel leak, he, was heading back to the carrier.

She circled around the column as Bennie flew into Kevin's spot and they both re-oriented the other men and as they strafed the guard towers. Night flying was a difficult task and Bennie was still getting used to flying with a fighter wing. Holtzmann released her purple flare and that would alert the officers on the ground of her situation.

The officer, Watson, knew that she needed to refuel and urged his American counterpart to hurry, the airfield needed to be in operation sooner rather than later.

Holtz knew she had at least half a tank of fuel before she would have to bail out. She climbed higher to get some distance from those Fw. 190's and looked to her left. Where was Bennie? Those bogies were getting damn close and Bennie should be five minutes behind her. The man could just not keep up and she wondered why they had filled him in a fighter slot, he would be better as a bomber pilot. She slowed her descent and only leveled when she was about three thousand meters from the ground. One of the German fighters crashed, and the other remained on her tail. He fired his guns and Holtz felt her plane kick, not a good sign.

"Bennie, come in. Eagle Four come in. Shit." She muttered as she heard the shriek of another German plane below her.

That was not good to be this close to the ground and have a kicking Hurricane. She pulled up on the throttle and began to climb back up into the wild blue. The German pilot seemed to have the same idea and Holtz felt the sweat on her brow. She needed to shake this bogey and she needed to do it soon, she noticed her rear rudder tearing and shot to pieces and she has an oil leak.

"Eagle Two this Eagle Four, trying to shake this bogey. Repeat any planes can assist-." Bennie spoke as the static filled air and another German ace had scored a kill.

"Shit, gówno! Eagle Three, reads you Eagle Four. Eagle Four, where are you? Gówno! " She screeched as she fought against her dying plane and tried to hold the metal bird together for a minute, two if she was lucky.

Her gauges kept blinking at her, angry with the bullets lodged into the belly of her baby. The pilot seems to match her every move and she knows she needs to up the ante. Beckman could have gotten this bogey off her tail, no questions asked. That Welshman was such an idiot but damn, he was an excellent aviator.

She feels the shudder that goes through the plane and knows she needs to bail or she will die, not that she had any plans to do that today, so she does the sensible thing, she quickly jumps out of her dying Hawker, tries not to snag her leg on the metal and pushes off the wing. Bennie was dead, the sky was getting dark, and she could only think of the third Fw.190 below her, that bastard had come out of nowhere. She sends a quick prayer up that he won't turn and shoot her parachute out of the sky, it was bright white after all.

Holtz points herself towards the Americans and feels the heavy gusts of wind trying to pull away from where she wants to be. The machine gun fire barks as it illuminates the ground as she gets closer and closer. She finally hits the ground and rolls into the nearest cover, sweating as she gets into cover behind the truck.

She looks over and notices the American corpse lying beside her, she grabs the rifle and straps the heavy helmet on her head. Holtz holds the helmet for a second and notices the body. No time to mourn for the dead.

She struggles to clear the firing bolt and she manages to eject the empty clip. Holtz lifts the rifle and fires at one of the incoming French soldiers who must have noticed that she was struggling to pick the rifle up. The kickback from the rifle startles her but, she stays in cover as the infantry inches up to her current position. She raises her head and at the French machine gun nest homes in on her, she flies to the ground gripping her arm.

Her helmet flew off as she falls to the ground, clutching her shoulder as the, her leg is on fire and she does not know if that is from jumping out an airplane or 'Mr. Machine Gun'.

* * *

Cpl. Jim Hawkins rushed towards the downed pilot and began digging in his musette bag for a bandage. He needed to get to Fischer and when he finally got behind the overturned truck he stopped. The pilot was curled up next to the dead Finn and sobbing.

The pilot was speaking frantically in Polish and he seemed to understand what she was pointing to. She had a shoulder wound and it seemed ugly, it would leave a nasty scar and she kept pointing at it. Hawkins remained calm as he undid the bandage and kept his head down as the battle raged around them.

The bullets pinged and zinged around them as the engineers slowly advanced across the airfield, the machine guns were pinning men down left and right. He finished wrapping her shoulder steady as he rolls up her sleeve and readies his morphine syrette, injecting it into her shoulder to ease her pain. He looked up again and noticed that his patient was a woman, a woman!

Hawkins calmed her and noticed her leg, he ripped the sulfa packet and poured it into her leg. The sulfa would help the leg from getting infected and he ripped the tourniquet out of his bag, tying it to the exposed part of her leg. He looked at her, shocked that she flew combat missions for the Air Force, it was unheard of and he felt tired, he holds her hand as he inspects the tourniquet and finishes tying it off.

He wraps her leg with gauze and puts the helmet back on the woman's head as rifle and machine gun fire fly overhead. These Frenchies weren't making it easy on any of them tonight, least of all the air force.

"You'll need this, I think it may take a while before the rest of the squad gets here, stay down, right as rain." Hawkins yells as the woman does just that he sees she is groaning and that is a good sign, it means the sulfa is starting to kick in.

He waits for a lull in the hail of fire as he lifts the woman on his back and runs back to Sgt. Rourke and the rest of the squad. The Frenchies really didn't want to let this airfield and it showed with 'Mr. Machine Gun' as the pilot had stammered out.

* * *

A young Private Garrett Kelly and Corporal Carlyle rush to meet the medic as he helps get the woman on a stretcher and they carry her back to the squad, Garrett pops his canteen and hands it to the pilot who downs it greedily.

"What the hell where you thinking Corporal? You could have been shot or worse killed!" Sgt. Rourke yells above the din of gunfire as Hawkins looked at his friend, it was a moot argument.

"I wasn't Rourke, I saw her go down and knew I had to jump into action. Would you rather she dies in the field?" Jim says as Rourke glares at him, he did not want to have this argument in front of the men.

"I'd rather you followed orders and treated Fischer first!"

"He's dead Jas! Fischer, Henry, Hayes, half of the HQ staff are dead. Do you get it Jas? Spengler is the only officer left in the field." Hawkins replied as he struck his cigarette and took a deep drag on it.

This was their first baptism of fire, Rourke was lucky he had not lost as many as he could have. The men of the 15th Engineer Battalion were only getting started in this fight.

"Hey, the 104th Evac are down the road. Rourke, Carlyle, Kelly and Hawkins. I am entrusting you numbnuts with getting our friend down there, can you do that Rourke?" Lieutenant Spengler yells from his half-track, which illuminated the dark night

Rourke and his squad move the makeshift stretcher onto one of the unit Jeeps and pile in as Hawkins takes the wheel.

"So, Kelly where you from?" Hawkins asked as his slid the pilot in the back of the jeep and waited for the young man to get in as he turned the engine over.

"Berlin Mills, New Hampshire. I drifted for a few years after finishing my courses in Durham and I decided to enlist, one of the stupidest things I ever did." Kelly responded as he hopped in the passenger seat, "I volunteered for this shit."

"Evergreen, Alabama, Kelly you never volunteer for shit in this army. I should know I was voulntold to go to Haiti and look at me now, with you numbnuts." Rourke barked with a smile as he stuffed some chew into his mouth and looked out past the convoy.

"Carlyle, Queens and I'm just getting by in this crackshit outfit." Bob replied as they rolled on through the darkened pass.

"No one asked you Carlyle, I liked Fischer better anyway." Hawkins replied and clutched the wheel tightly at the realization of what had happened.

"Where was that Finn from anyway?" Rourke asked as he chewed on his tobacco, softer at the thought of the dead man.

"Virrat but he told me his wife was living in Odessa, Texas and she was six months pregnant." Garrett replied and looked back towards the pilot who just stared up into the sky.

"Damn."

The jeep grew very quiet as the men thought about their dead friend and stared at the pilot who lay quiet in the back. Garett offered a smoke to the injured pilot and she gratefully took it. She was very quiet, and Garrett had to figure she is not used to people being nice to her, especially with a smoke or no friends anyway.

The men fell into an un-easy silence as they drove back up the road and saw all the casualties in trucks and on jeeps. The column seemed to have no end and the men realized how long this war was going to be.

"You think we'll be here long Rourke?" Garett asked as he looped his rifle around his arm and stared ahead, trying to ignore the smell of the casualties and petrol in the air.

"I hope not. Holtzmann." The small woman coughed through the cigarette and start at the men with her piercing blue eyes, full of a lifetime at war.

"You rest easy there, Holtzmann. We will get you to the 104th soon enough and you will be right as rain. Where you from?" Kelly said with a smile and the woman mustered a smile at his comforting words.

"Wrocław, mate. Now be a good chap and get me to the hospital before I lose this leg here." Jillian asked as Hawkins and Kelly nod as they drive up road, "hey watch the bumps!"

"Sorry, sorry. Hawkins is a shit driver and we will get you to the 104th and you'll be right as rain. That's what my ma always told me when I got hurt." Garrett said as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder as they snaked up the road.

"Screw you, Kelly. I got us here didn't I?"

"Kelly, Bob, lift her down and get her in there. Jim get re-supplied we move out in a few hours." Rourke barked as he went over to talk to an orderly.

The war was just beginning for them.


End file.
